Missed Calls, Pt. 2

Love is a drug and I ain't tryna' overdose

How you tryna guard me knowing I shoot over those

I Kept that door locked and I still keep my pole close

Still that trap spot, Im still up in that hell hole

My bitch just ask for Prada I can't even tell her no

Keep my emotions in a bottle they ain't got nowhere to go

Clip hang right out my pocket imma always let it show

In the field just like Osama static imma let it blow

Catch you with them cutters get a shape up

Niggas really dying they just play tough

All my bitches bad with no make up

I'm just tryna' fuck ain't tryna' make love